Drawn in Blood (28 page)

Sloane accepted Rich’s announcement without surprise or concern. What he was describing was standard operating procedure.

Once again, Derek felt like a bastard. But he just couldn’t let this one go—even if it meant betraying his promise to Sloane. He didn’t want to keep his suspicions from her. But as of now, they had no concrete basis, and he knew that the very idea he believed otherwise—and was acting on that belief—would tear her apart. There was plenty of time to do that later—if necessary. And if it wasn’t, he’d tel her anyway, ful y aware that it could put a permanent chink in their relationship.

Love was a wonderful thing. Except when it wasn’t.

Cindy took great pains getting dressed and ready for tonight’s dinner with Wal ace. As Peggy had suggested, she wore her turquoise silk blouse, which clung ever so subtly to her delicate curves. She also donned a pair of Ralph Lauren black silk slacks and classic high-heeled pumps. Wal ace was tal . It was important that the two of them fit together—physical y as wel as intel ectual y.

She brushed her dark hair until it glistened, put on a minimal amount of makeup, and then dabbed some Magie Noire perfume behind her ears and on her wrists. She hesitated, then traced a tiny line of the captivating scent between her breasts.
Magie Noire
—French for “black magic.” What a fitting name for the evening she had in mind.

Derek left the office early that night. Sloane and Jeff were putting the final touches on their plans for tomorrow’s visit to the battered women’s shelter. After that, Sloane had an occupational therapy appointment at HSS. It was just as wel . Derek needed time to think, to assimilate his thoughts, and to deal with his guilt.

Traffic was lighter than usual, and he got home in record time. As he pul ed down the winding cottage driveway, he noticed there was a car parked at the foot of the driveway, near the garage. It took him a minute to recognize the red Lexus convertible and to remember that Sloane had told him she’d given Leo a key, since he’d be dropping by in the late afternoon to take some measurements and compare some color swatches.

Great. Talk about rubbing Derek’s nose in guilt. It was the first night in weeks that he didn’t feel like probing one of Matthew’s partners for information. He just wanted to pour himself a glass of wine, go over the material he’d col ected on the case—and, yes, on Matthew’s partners—and figure out if it was the Fong Triad that Xiao Long had his connections to, and if so, if it was Henry Fong himself who was subsidizing Xiao’s big-time art-theft crimes.

Determined to urge Leo out the door ASAP, Derek let himself into the cottage through the garage door.

Three things happened at once.

The hounds came flying out of the den, racing around the corner, and barking joyously at Derek’s homecoming. A loud thud and a muttered curse emanated from the living room just as Derek appeared in its entranceway. And Leo Fox stumbled to his feet, red-faced and stuttering apologies as he col ected papers off the carpet and shoved them back into the open file.

Derek recognized the contents. They were Sloane’s copies of the police reports detailing the artwork stolen during the Upper East Side burglaries.

Wal ace’s taste in restaurants was impeccable.

Savoy had always been one of Cindy’s personal favorites. Nestled in downtown Soho, it had a lovely main dining room on the second level. The crackling fireplace and wood-accented windows, together with the privately arranged tables and accommodating staff, created an elegant ambiance that was both homey and intimate.

It was precisely the scenario Cindy had anticipated for this al -important evening.

Wal ace himself looked impeccable, dressed in a classy but understated custom-made suit and silk tie. He was carrying a smal shopping bag, and judging from the glossy white color and silver roped handles, whatever was inside it was for her. And his curious glance at the slim box under her arm told her this was going to be a race to see who got the honor of presenting their gift first.

No contest. She was taking the lead here. It was a necessity to ensure that she accomplished the ful impact of her presentation.

Wal ace had arranged to have them seated at a quiet corner table close to the fire. As soon as the maitre d’ brought them over to the table, settled them in, and discreetly left them alone, Cindy took the reins.

“I have something for you,” she told Wal ace. “It’s a special thank-you from my
A Sook
and me. I would have saved it for after dessert, but given its size—it’s not as if I could keep it hidden in my pocket.” She reached down and lifted the thin, square box from where she’d propped it against her chair. “I hope it touches your heart the way we thought it would.” With a pleased but quizzical look in his eyes, Wal ace took the box and opened it, peeling back the layers of tissue paper and revealing the two-foot-by-two-foot bamboo picture frame and the canvas it held. His breath caught for a moment as he lifted it out and gazed at the master oil painting in his hands.

The room in it was a muted shade of green, and dim lighting haloed the closed door. Standing there, with one hand on the doorknob, was the room’s sole occupant.

The little Asian girl was about four years old. She was laughing, her other hand clapped over her mouth as if to keep the subject of her mirth private. Her hair was in two braids, a bright pink flower tucked behind each one. Her robe was a traditional Chinese silk with ornate trim at the wrists and neck. The way the pale aura captured and il uminated her, it was as if she was right there with you, her dark eyes dancing, the very essence of life emanating from her youth and beauty.

The signature, in the painting’s lower right-hand corner, belonged to a wel -known Chinese artist.

Wal ace swal owed twice before he spoke.

“This is exquisite,” he final y managed. “I can’t tel you how moved I am.”

“You don’t have to,” Cindy replied softly. “Your expression just did.”

He raised his head. “‘Thank you’ doesn’t do justice to what I’m feeling right now. But it’s al I have. So thank you, to you and your uncle.” He reached across the table and took Cindy’s hand, half rising from his chair so he could bring her fingers to his lips.

“You’re very welcome.” Cindy kept her gaze fixed on his. “It’s as much a gift for me, to see such appreciation for a fine work of art, as it is to you. I hope you’l hang it in your home and think about me every time you look at it. That way, you’l know how grateful I am for al you’ve done for my career—and for me.” She let her fingers linger in his hand for an extra moment, as her warm expression caressed his face. “Your support has made al the difference.”

Reluctantly, Wal ace released her hand, and sank back down into his chair. “Al I did was open the door. Your talent took over from there. And I should warn you—even though we’re celebrating your first big project, a deluge of them is about to fol ow. I’ve received a dozen cocktail party invitations for the next two weeks alone. Every one of the invitations is for the two of us, and every one of them is from an eager perspective client. Between that, and the word of mouth you’l receive on this first design project you’re undertaking, you’l barely have time to sleep.”

“How exciting!” Cindy lit up.

“Does that mean I can accept the invitations on your behalf?”

“Of course. I’m thril ed. It wil give me the chance to line up new projects, and equal y important, it wil give us the chance to get to know each other better.”

“Nothing would please me more.” Wal ace careful y rewrapped the painting and set it aside, then handed Cindy the package he’d brought. “This is just something that made me think of you—a smal congratulations gift. It pales in comparison to the painting—and to you.”

Cindy lowered her lashes. She was beginning to enjoy this game of romantic cat and mouse. “You’ve already given me my career start,” she murmured as she opened the bag.

“That’s more than enough congratulations.” A soft laugh. “But I have to confess, I love presents.” She unwrapped the tissue paper, revealing a black, buttery-leather briefcase. It was classy yet high-styled, feminine and at the same time professional, with enough room for her sketches, portfolios, and even her laptop. It was clearly handmade by an Italian designer, and it had that wonderful new-leather smel that screamed success.

“Wal ace, it’s stunning,” she murmured, taking it out and inspecting it, then opening it up and running her fingers over the soft suede interior. “And it’s so very—me.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair and squinting, as if picturing her walking down the streets of Manhattan, carrying his gift in her hand. “I have a minority interest in an Italian leather goods manufacturer. The overseas reps were in New York for Market Week, and I got the chance to see their new designs. This was the showstopper. The moment I saw it, I knew. It won’t even be available until next season. You’re the very first person to have one, which is fitting.” A minority interest in an Italian leather goods manufacturer? For a fleeting instant, Cindy wondered if her
A Sook
knew about Wal ace’s gift to her, and its source. If so, he was probably amused.

“I’l bring it with me on the first day of my new project,” she declared. “Once my clients see it, they’l have to hire me. They’l assume that anyone who can afford something this exclusive and pricey must be earning a fortune—which could only mean that her work is superb.”

“And they’d be right to be impressed. But not about your wealth. About your talent and you. You’re a very special woman, Cindy.” This was going even better than she’d hoped.

She leaned forward. “I’m glad you’l be escorting me to al those cocktail parties. Frankly, I find this sudden notoriety a little overwhelming.”

“You shouldn’t. But not to worry. We’l tackle the parties together.”

“You’re very kind.” Cindy paused, as if weighing her words. This next part of the conversation was crucial. She had to handle it just right, or things could fal apart very quickly and
very
prematurely.

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” she said, “but I feel as if we’re far more than casual friends. So I’m going to risk overstepping my bounds. My
A Sook
told me about your daughter’s tragic death. I’m so terribly sorry. A loss like that…I can’t even imagine how devastating it must be. I want you to know my heart goes out to you.” The expression that crossed Wal ace’s face was so tragic that Cindy almost felt guilty for bringing up the subject.

“If I’m violating your privacy…” she heard herself say.

“No.” Wal ace shook his head. “You’re not violating anything, nor are you being intrusive.” A veil of tears moistened his eyes. “Losing Sophie was crippling. It stil is. Talking about it is something I seldom do, but not because it makes the pain any worse. Mostly because there are no words to say, and no one I care to say them to.” He met her gaze. “I’ve been dead inside for a very long time. I know I’l never ful y recover. Part of me died with Sophie, and that part is gone forever. But the rest…” He drew in a breath. “Truthful y, I thought al of me might be dead. That’s why meeting you has been such a breath of fresh air. For the first time in ages, I feel a tad of hope, a possibility that someday I might have the impetus to get out of bed in the morning.”

“I’m glad.” Cindy’s conscience couldn’t take any more. Neither could her stomach. She understood al the reasons why she was doing what she was doing. But theory and reality weren’t the same.

She was tough. But apparently not as tough as she thought. She couldn’t pursue this subject. If she wanted to accomplish what her
A Sook
wanted her to, she’d have to accomplish it without discussion of Sophie. A five-year-old girl being kil ed by a hit-and-run driver was not something she could rub in Wal ace’s face, whether or not his anguish satisfied her
A Sook’
s sense of equity.

“I hope I’m not scaring you off,” Wal ace said in a rueful tone, clearly interpreting her silence as a sign that he was pushing too hard too soon. “I have no expectations. I try to take life a day at a time; it’s the only way I’ve survived. But if I’m overwhelming you, please let me know. You’re young, you’re vibrant, you’re beautiful, and you’re talented. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and the whole world at your feet. You deserve to share that life with a circle of people, particularly a man, who can offer you that same anticipation and exuberance. I have no delusions that I’d ever be able to ral y enough to be that man. But, selfishly, I enjoy your company, and I find your energy infectious. So if you’re wil ing, I’m very happy to just enjoy this time together, and take things as they come.”

“That works perfectly for me,” Cindy replied, feeling on more comfortable ground. “My own life is so up in the air, and everything is happening so quickly, that I’m not in any position to plan long-term relationships. I enjoy your company as wel —and I think you underestimate your assets. You’re self-assured, you have an aura of success, and you’re distinguished and handsome. Those qualities hold equal y as much impact as youth and enthusiasm. So I agree, let’s just let things unfold as they’re meant to.” An impish grin. “I realize that being spontaneous is contrary to both our natures. We’re planners. We like being in control. From what I hear, playing the role of a free spirit has its merits.” Cindy’s last comment had the desired effect, and an odd expression flickered across Wal ace’s face. “Sometimes you remind me so much of that woman I mentioned to you.

And I assure you, that’s a high compliment. She was unique, beautiful, and a free spirit, as you mentioned. Only in her case, it came natural y.”

“Was this woman significant in your life?”

“For a long time, yes. But we were very different. We eventual y went our separate ways. It was best that way.”
Best for whom?
Cindy asked herself, picturing Meili as the joyful girl she remembered, and reminding herself that this man was the reason she’d taken her own life.

That reminder was enough to strengthen her resolve. That, and the fact that avenging Meili’s death was one of her beloved
A Sook’
s dying wishes.